Mr Dixon
by Warriorcat890
Summary: Carl steals Sophia's doll and places it in the most unlikely place imaginable: Daryl Dixon's tent. A Daryl and Sophia one-shot. Takes place during Season 1.


_Mr. Dixon - One-shot_

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**Just a short little one-shot between Daryl and Sophia. Takes place in Season 1, just after Rick arrives and everyone seems to get more settled in.**

**I don't own The Walking Dead.**

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"Come on, Sophia! Don't be such a baby," Carl sneered. His lips were upturned in a devious smirk as he leaned up against the trunk of a maple tree.

The young girl threw her hands up in the air, tears springing to her eyes. "Stop it, Carl! It's not funny! Tell me where my doll is right now!" she demanded. She wanted it back; that's all. She didn't know why Carl had to be so mean about it. He had always teased and messed with her, but this was a new low.

Didn't Carl have any idea what her doll meant to her? The world had ended—there were dead people walking around trying to eat them. Everyone had had to leave their houses and live in the woods now, and her doll was all Sophia had left of her old life. She could never go back to her house, she could never lie in her bed again, or snuggle with her favorite stuffed animals. She would never go to school and see her best friends. She would never have sleepovers, or go see movies at the cinema. She, like everyone else, was now cursed to live in this hell.

That doll was everything to her; it was her last and final tie to her life before.

Carl smiled sinisterly. "I might tell you where I hid it," he told her slyly. "But I might not."

Her tears were now threatening to fall. "Stop it! Just tell me where she is!"

He let out an exasperated sigh. "Ugh, you're no fun when you start cryin'," he muttered, his voice laced with irritation. "I hid it."

"Where?" she hissed through clenched teeth. She was beginning to lose her patience in Carl's games. _If he doesn't stop messing around, I swear, I'll punch him so hard, I'll knock his teeth out!_

The evil look returned to his face. "Daryl's tent."

Sophia felt the blood drain from her face. "What?" she asked in a fearful whisper.

"I told you: it's in Daryl's tent. He was out hunting, so I snuck into his camp and put your dolly in his tent," Carl repeated, sounding bored. "If you really want it, go get it." Not even waiting to see if she would actually go looking for it or not, he turned away from her and strode off toward the RV.

There was no holding back her tears anymore. She knew that she would never be able to work up enough courage to go to Daryl's camp to get her doll back; the taciturn hunter terrified her. He always seemed so hateful, and always seemed to be looking for someone to fight. To make matters worse, her father, Ed, despised him and forbade both her and her mother, Carol, from going anywhere near him. Her father called him white trash, saying his only use was to get meat for the others; he often said that if Daryl wasn't such a good hunter, he would have thrown the redneck out himself. Whenever he said things like this, her mother always got a resentful look on her face, which only unnerved Sophia further. Carol never got angry, and rarely got upset with anyone, especially Ed. Why she seemed to stand up for and have a soft spot for Daryl Dixon, Sophia would never know.

Wiping her eyes, Sophia contemplated her options. She knew that if she got really desperate, she could go to Carol and ask for her help, but she wanted to avoid that scenario. As much as Carl got on her nerves, he was her friend, and the last thing Sophia wanted was to get him in trouble. Carol would undoubtedly tell Lori, and then Carl would be punished for taking her doll. _Maybe he deserves it, _she thought darkly for a moment. _He did put my doll in Daryl's tent. Ugh, why couldn't he have put it somewhere else? Anywhere else but there!_

The more she thought, she began to formulate a plan. Daryl was most likely still out hunting, so maybe she could sneak into his camp, get her doll and sneak out. He'd never know that she was there!

As the sun began to descend from its highest point, Sophia wandered around the camp, too jittery to sit still. She didn't know where Carl was, and didn't really want to find out. The longer she waited, the higher chance she had of running into Daryl. _I need to go now,_ she decided. _Before he gets back from hunting… I don't know how long I have. I have to hurry._

She looked around quickly to make sure no one was watching her. The camp seemed oddly empty—Glenn was on watch while Dale fiddled with the RV. The men were off somewhere—most likely on a run gathering supplies—and the women were down by the water washing clothes. Sophia glanced over at Glenn and Dale every few seconds as she easily slipped into the surrounding brush. Her lanky frame was quickly concealed by the summer foliage, allowing her to sneak off without being questioned.

Daryl's small campsite was separate from the rest of the camp, and was located in a rather secluded spot in the forest. The hunter seemed to like his space and his privacy, and the others were more than happy to give it to him. Sophia had never been there before, but had a good idea as to where it was. Carl had often tried to persuade her to go to Daryl's camp, saying that they'd look around and try to find a knife or something to practice with. She'd always declined his offers, knowing that Carol would be disappointed if she ever found out. However, Carl had described it to her many times, and she was confident that she'd locate it eventually.

After a few minutes of stumbling over fallen tree limbs, tendrils snaking around her ankles, and bushes snagging at her shorts, she began to get worried. Was she going the right way? Did she even have any idea where she was going?

Then, very suddenly, she saw it. Through the leaves, and other undergrowth, she spotted the telltale blue and white fabric of the tent; it was erected in a small clearing next to a cold fire pit. She went toward it cautiously, squinting to try to see if Daryl was there. Not that it was would matter—he would have heard her coming anyway.

Luckily for her, the hunter was nowhere in sight. Breathing out a sigh of relief, Sophia staggered out of the woods and into the glade. Once more, she scanned the surrounding area, looking for signs of Daryl, and for walkers. The last thing she needed was for a walker to find her alone and unprotected.

She felt exposed being in the small opening; she wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. The forest was much different from the quarry; it was darker, and almost smothering. The tree trunks, branches, and leaves seemed to reach out as if to grab hold of her. Sophia rushed over to the tent and pulled back the flap.

Her heart fell at what greeted her.

A few worn blankets were strewn across the floor. A small pack sat in the corner, half open with a few arrows protruding from it. Sophia crawled inside, wondering where Carl could have put her doll. She looked underneath the blankets, and when her search came up empty, she moved to the pack. Unzipping the top entirely, she rummaged through its contents—arrows, bullets, a switchblade, smaller knives, a roll of twine, and a bottle containing some kind of medicine.

No doll.

Anxiety clenched at her stomach. Where was it?

"I swear if Carl lied…" she muttered under her breath, backing out of the tent.

"Lookin' for this?"

Sophia nearly jumped out of her skin. She sprang to her feet and whipped around to face the speaker. Daryl Dixon stood there, his crossbow slung over his shoulder and her doll in his hand. He was looking at it thoughtfully, almost admiring it. She gulped, "Yes."

Daryl looked at her, his expression unreadable. He walked over to her slowly, looking down on her with the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. The hunter examined the doll one last time before holding it out for her to take. "Go on. Take it."

Unable to hide her trepidation, she extended her hand warily. Daryl waited patiently. Finally, she took it from him and clutched it to her chest.

A small, subtle smile appeared on the hunter's face. He knelt down so he was level with her, and set his crossbow on the ground beside them. "Ya'll wanna take good care of that there doll. It's real nice. Ya wouldn't want anythin' to happen to it, would ya?" His voice was uncharacteristically gentle; almost fatherly.

Sophia shook her head.

"Ya won't lose it again?" he asked, his voice still soft and kind.

"No," she answered. "I didn't lose it. Carl stole it and put it your tent so I would have to come get it back."

Daryl's face hardened slightly. "Ya kids shouldn't be out here. It ain't safe. And Carl shouldn't be stealin' ya stuff."

Sophia let out a small giggle. "Try telling Carl that! At least I try to listen."

He smiled briefly again. "That's a good girl. Ya listen to ya mother, got it? Don't go wand'rin off again. We've already lost too many as it is."

She nodded. "Okay. Thank you for finding my doll, Mr. Dixon."

Daryl's smile widened considerably. "Yer more than welcome, but don't call me that; Mr. Dixon is my dad. Besides, it makes me sound old. Ya can jus' call me Daryl, kay kiddo?"

"Okay, Daryl," Sophia giggled softly.

He kept smiling and pushed himself back up to a standing position. "Ya can make it back ta the camp from here, right?"

She nodded.

"Alright, then. Hurry back, don't wander 'round."

"I won't," she promised, turning toward the woods.

"Oh, and Sophia," he called.

She paused and looked back.

"If Carl ever gives ya trouble, lemme know. I'll give 'im a good scare for ya," he joked, picking up his crossbow, and motioning to one of his arrows.

Sophia smiled. She might have to take him up on that offer one day. As she headed back to camp, she couldn't keep the triumphant smirk off her face. Wait until Carl heard she had the redneck on her side!

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A/N: Did you like this one-shot? Leave a review and let me know! If you've liked this piece and you would like to see other things I post, remember to follow and favorite! :D


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